


Grief as Deep as Moria

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: Possible Future Tales of the Mute!Bilbo Verse [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, This fic is an angst cupcake with angst frosting and angst sprinkles, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo remembers the tales his Uncle Bilbo wrote. He remembers clearly what Uncle Bilbo would "tell" no other, in gestures that Frodo knew better then any language.</p><p>He remembers and so he finds the Library of Rivendell, alone, because he must.</p><p>There is a lot he <i>must</i> do, isn't there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grief as Deep as Moria

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Stretch of Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/624327) by [Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose). 



Frodo is tired, so very tired.

For the most part, he just wants to lie down and rest. He wants to sit with his Uncle Bofur and have his hair braided up like it is _supposed_ to be braided, but…

He remembers the stories that Uncle Bilbo gestured to him, in a language he knew better than any other, except Khazadul, maybe, or Iglishmek. The stories that Uncle Bilbo made him _swear_ never to tell to another soul, of the practically doomed love of Erestor and Ori.

An Elf and a Dwarf.

Of a love that would never be recognized, except by each other and a simple Hobbit who had been adopted into a Dwarf family.

So, when he and Sam, dear Sam, and Merry and Pippin get to Rivendell, he manages to get away from them, if just for a short time, and he made his way to the Library of Rivendell. “Erestor?” he called.

“If you’ve come searching for a book, I’ll…Frodo,” Erestor responded, calm and collected, though there was a hitch in his voice when he called Frodo’s name.

Surprise, most likely.

Frodo could never read Erestor as Ori could.

“Hello. Erestor…Erestor I need to tell you something,” Frodo said and he looked around, feeling weary already.

Then again, when didn’t he feel weary now?

Erestor raised one eyebrow and frowned a bit. “If this is about borrowing a book to read in bed,” he began but Frodo shook his head, catching himself on a table and realizing he had pushed himself too far as it was.

“No, no. I wish it was that, but no. Is there someplace…private that we can talk at? And I can sit down?” Frodo asked.

Erestor let out a low sigh and glanced around before waving his hand for Frodo to follow and Frodo did.

He sunk down into a chair, relieved, once they were out of sight and took a steadying breath, Erestor waiting far more patiently then Frodo had expected.

It was obvious Erestor was in the middle of rearranging the library and Frodo looked up at him. “You will want to sit down,” Frodo warned, but all he got was an arched eyebrow.

Frodo let out a low sigh and decided to do this the Hobbit way, which was simple, plain, and gentle. “We discovered why letters stopped coming from Moria,” he began and Erestor stilled instantly.

And here, Frodo thought he had been still before and Erestor’s eyes pinned Frodo to his seat. “I’m sorry. We…discovered Ori dead. Along with every other Dwarf of Moria,” Frodo explained.

Erestor stared and Frodo, if he had the strength, would have stood and left.

“How?”

It was a strong voice, unwaivering and demanding.

“Goblins. We only know this because he died as he lived; recording every event that he was part of,” Frodo answered.

Erestor nodded and muttered something that could have been, “Of course,” but it did not truly matter.

Frodo slowly levered himself up and looked at Erestor. “I am sorry for your loss,” Frodo stated and then he left.

He could no more comfort Erestor then he could comfort Uncle Bofur when Uncle Bilbo forgot a gesture in Iglishmek.

So, he left the Library.

Erestor did not call him back.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Erestor stood stock still in his private back room, where he repaired books and scrolls. He had heard Frodo, but he did not want to believe the Hobbit.

The Hobbit who had carried the One Ring to Mordor and destroyed it.

It showed, Erestor realized distantly.

The Hobbit who had made his way to the Library to deliever such dark tidings was not the same Hobbit who had left Rivendell what seemed so long ago now.

How could it be _long_?

Erestor had lived _Ages_ , had taught every child of Elrond, had watched them grow, had watched them _change_ from light hearted children to warriors and a queen! Had watched one choose a Mortal Life, while the other two remained uncertain of what Fate they would Choose.

Why was it suddenly _long_ when Frodo had left?

 _Because_ , a traitorous voice whispered, _When he left, you had hope it was Ori’s letters getting lost and that he would come, eventually, to demand why you had not written back._

Erestor does not fully realize when he’s left the back room, just that he knows when he has returned to his quarters. He walks over to his desk and opens it to reveal a picture given to him long ago and pulls it out, settling on the bed he had for the (few) times Ori visited so they could talk till Ori passed out.

He stares down at the picture, rough at the edges from how often Erestor had pulled it out to look at it.

It is a picture of him, looking out one of the windows, a book in his hands. He does not know how Ori captured such a brief moment, but it is exquisite and…

_“I know I’m young, and silly. I know…I know you might not ever return my affection, and, quite possibly, my affection might never bloom into anything more. I…I don’t know. But…I want to give this to you. So you always know that this is how I see you.”_

The drawing slips from limp fingers and Erestor curls over and covers his face with his hands as he begins to sob. Great, bone shaking sobs, that are ripped from his chest and heart that is _still beating_ somehow. Why is it still beating when the reason it continued to beat, the reason Erestor had stopped feeling so _weary_ with Middle-Earth was _gone_?

_Why?_

He was still sobbing when Elrond entered and settled next to him, wrapping a comforting and understanding arm around his shoulders before Erestor turned into the embrace and sobbed onto his friend’s shoulder, clinging to the grey mantle he always wore now. At some point one of Elrond’s hands reached up to cradle the back of Erestor’s head and, somehow, he breaks down further.

When his tears are spent, for now, Elrond gives him a red handkerchief and helps to dry his face.

The eyes, old, so much older, then when Ori first walked into Rivendell (and that nearly sends him into more tears, but all there is left is an aching _emptiness_ and he cannot seem to cry anymore), are the last clear things he remembers before he slips into a grief-stricken fog.

He distantly remembers putting on the scarf and refusing to leave his quarters. He distantly remembers writing something, something that is important.

And truly, the only clear thing he remembers is the fact he held onto the drawing after saving it from the floor.

_“But…I want to give this to you. So you always know that this is how I see you.”_

*~*~*~*~*~*

It is Elrond who discovers that Erestor’s spirit has moved to the Halls of Mandos four months after falling into grief.

It is also Elrond who discovers _why_ , in a bound book, written of a love doomed from the beginning. A love that would blossom and bloom through the trials they faced; bloomed despite the mounting darkness that loomed around them in the face of the Dwarf’s own mortality and in the Darkness growing from Mordor.

Elrond puts the book among those in the library for great and tragic love stories, once he has read it.

And knows now what Frodo told Erestor, four months ago.

Knows now what had Frodo saying he wished to go home, even when he was in no condition to travel farther.

He decides to never tell Frodo what happened.

The Hobbit, he decides, has been burdened enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I did warn you all.
> 
> The pairings in this thing are;
> 
> Bofur/Bilbo
> 
> and
> 
> Erestor/Ori
> 
> (in both cases, we knew this was going to end tragically)


End file.
